


"I think you fly too close to the sun."

by knightofcauldrons



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Humor, But also, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ghost Mollymauk Tealeaf, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Inner Dialogue, Introspection, Kinda, Mythology References, Wings, because the ending isnt. super optimistic, identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27278203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofcauldrons/pseuds/knightofcauldrons
Summary: Molly dies.Spectral and ghostly, Mollymauk Tealeaf follows the Mighty Nein around on their adventures, a silent spectator. He's very opinionated about all of it, but he can't really share those feelings when he's dead, now can he?(Can you mourn a death even if it's your own?)
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Vax'ildan, The Mighty Nein & Mollymauk Tealeaf
Comments: 12
Kudos: 95





	"I think you fly too close to the sun."

_I think you’re like Icarus_ , Gustav had said to him once. _I think you fly too close to the sun_. 

Well, fuck, he had thought to himself. Maybe Icarus knew he was gonna die all along. Maybe he didn’t care as long as he got to see the sun.

Falling feels like flying, anyways. 

Maybe Icarus was in the sky to have a good time, not a long time. 

Molly dies as people often do, and the wings he sprouts thereafter aren’t the kind that melt. 

“This isn’t supposed to happen.”

“Which part, asshole.”

“All of it. The dying, the wings.”

“So I’m not supposed to be dead?”

Vax’ildan doesn’t say anything. Molly looks over at Yasha.

“She can’t see you, Mollymauk.”

“Thank you for telling me that,” Molly said with faux cheer, “I fucking noticed already.”

Vax sighs. 

The Nicodranaus sun shines down on them, though Molly can’t feel it’s warmth. 

“Why follow her, specifically?”

Molly looked back at Vax, his eyebrows raised at him.

“You know what?” said Molly. “I’ve got a feeling she cared about me more than the others did.”

Vax pursed his lips, not seeming super convinced.

“What about that human monk, then?” Vax asked him. “Does _sobbing, crying eulogy_ not scream _I care about you_.” 

Molly shrugged. “Beauregard? Caring about me? I don’t know. Might’ve just… Been heat of the moment. Not everyday someone dies in front of you trying to save your life. My death probably just, I don’t know, shocked her.” 

Vax rolled his eyes at him. “Alright. Sure. But, listen. That fuckin’ eulogy? That seemed… Genuine. Even now, it still seems like she misses you, which isn’t very _heat of the moment_ of her. Keep in mind that I couldn’t give less of a shit about you, but have you considered that, sometimes, people like you? For your personality?” 

Molly sighed. “Yes, I have considered that, I’m aware that I can often be a very likeable and nice person. But that’s not how I usually come across, is it? I come across as one hell of an untrustworthy bastard. And I just _knew_ that Beauregard didn’t trust me.”

“Yeah,” Vax agreed wholeheartedly. “ _Trust_ and _like_ are different things, asshole.”

Molly grimaced. “Fuckin’ hell, man. I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Does it matter now?”

Vax shrugged. “Seems to matter to you.”

Molly watched Yasha walk through the small village, face blank, seeming despondent. Molly remembers when she had seen his grave; The sound of her anguished screaming playing over and over in his head, mixing in with the memory of Beauregard’s sobbing.

Fucking hell. 

Molly walked next to Yasha, reaching out to touch her on the shoulder. He could feel something; Only vaguely, though. Might’ve just been Molly’s imagination if he didn’t know better.

Yasha didn’t seem to notice, just walked forward.

Molly looked back to where Vax was, but he was nowhere to be found, a single black feather falling daintily to the cobbled road. 

Figures. 

_If I had to compare you to someone,_ Beau had teased once, _I think you’re like Narcissus. Looking at yourself in the mirror ‘til you die._

She was right about that. 

As Molly’s body went limp, he looked down and saw his reflection in the blood pooling onto the ground, and his visage glinting off one of his scimitars. 

He falls on his back. He swears he sees his reflection in the moon too. He dies and his eyes never close. 

“Him,” said Vax, nodding towards the large pink-and-white firbolg. “What do you think about him?”

Molly tilted his head a little, his red eyes flickering over to him. “I like him. Dunno if he’d like me. Maybe he would. But I like him. He’s… He’s good for this group, I think. He’s what they need right now. He’s really what they need right now. And maybe he needs them a little bit, too.” 

They had wanted Caduceus to bring Molly back. That’s why they were seeking him; They were seeking a cleric. Someone to heal him. 

Molly remembers the look on Caduceus’ face when they had told him that, that look of soft sympathy that seemed like an apology. 

“Would you want to be revived?” Vax asks out of nowhere.

Molly looks at him, looks back at Caduceus. Shrugs.

“Don’t know. Would it even still be me?”

Vax gives him an odd look. “Why wouldn’t it?” 

Molly chews the inside of his lip. “No reason, no reason. I just. I want to come back. More than anything. I never had enough time. I never had enough time for Caleb, for Beau, for Jester, gods, for _Yasha_. I never had enough time for anything in general.”

Vax chuckles. “That’s what people always say when they die.”

Molly smiles wryly. “Yeah. But I mean it. I was alive for two years, Vax’ildan.”

“...Sorry?”

“Two years! Woke up, well. In a coffin two years ago. No memory, no name, no idea where or who I was. Total blank fuckin’ canvas.”

“You, uh. Well, you certainly painted that canvas,” said Vax, looking up and down at Molly. Vax swallows, looks away. “Two years isn’t enough. Wasn’t enough. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Well, it’s not. But what can I do now, you know? Not damn much, my friend.” Molly’s wings flutter a little. “I’m just. I don’t want that to happen again. I don’t want to wake up as a blank canvas. Whoever lived in that body before me? They’re dead for good. It was fucking _my_ body and the idea of it being anyone else’s… Fuck, I know I’m being selfish. But I don’t want a single other person to fucking _touch_ that body. It’s _mine_ and nothing changes that. I stole it from Lucien, Nonogan, whoever the _fuck_ , and goddamn, I don’t regret it.”

Molly sighed, slow and careful. “I just. As long as it’s the Mighty Nein who wake me up, I think I’ll be good. Cuz they’ll try to resurrect _me_ , you know? But if some random ass soul looks at it and decides _free real estate_ , well.”

“I… Understand, Mollymauk. I understand.” 

“I don’t really know if they’ll resurrect me, honestly.” Molly walks closer to where Caduceus and Jester stand on top of their stolen ship. “I’m not exactly they’re top priority. They don’t have the power to resurrect me anyways. Not yet.” 

Not yet, said something in the back of Molly’s mind.

Is it selfish of him? To be sad that they haven’t returned for him? That they haven’t even tried to find someone more capable to bring him back? 

Of course, Molly is sad he can’t fully appreciate the rest of the continent like the Nein are right now. Of course he is, he’s mourning what he could’ve done, what he could’ve been and seen.

But moreso, he’s anxious. He’s anxious that something else will wake up in his body, take away everything he’d created, just another walking blank canvas. He doesn’t want to see that happen.

He doesn’t. 

_You are a peacock of a man,_ Molly half-remembers Caleb saying as he began to drift to sleep. 

Molly, of course, understands why Caleb would say that. Molly’s constantly preening, and showing himself off, he’s extravagant and he’s still a little salty that they didn’t buy the peacock from that animal merchant (but truth be told, Molly wouldn’t have bought it if he were alive). 

Peacocks can fly, too. Short distances, though. Nothing special. 

Molly stretches his new wings out, the feathers shimmering in the light. He can fly much further now. 

Molly has spent longer than he’d like to admit imagining what his room would look like in their Xhorhasian house, what life would be like in there, so domestic and quaint.

Would he share a room with Yasha, or take the room across from her? How many nights would he stand by her door, wanting to sleep by her side instead because the terrible visions in his dreams always seem to stop when with her? 

Would Veth, because that is her name, leave buttons outside his door so he could sew them onto his coat? Would Caleb, because that is his name, stand in the doorway and ask if he’d like to go shopping for supplies? 

Would Caduceus pop his head in, ask what he’d like for dinner? Would Fjord slide in awkwardly and offer to go training with him and Beau? 

Would Jester paint something upon his walls? Molly would like that very much, he doesn’t think he’d like blank walls very much. Maybe he could get some lights in his room. Like jars of daylight, smaller maybe. 

And the garden. Would there be a place to worship the Moonweaver, there? A place to lay out his tarot cards and pray? 

There’s a very good view of the moon, in Roshana.

“Did you hear that?” Mollymauk says once. He says it outloud, though no one’s there to listen; Not even Vax’ildan, busy with some quest from the Raven Queen. “Caleb wants to name the damn house after me.”

The MT House. Molly will admit, it has a bit of a ring. 

Something seems off, thought. 

The house, well. It’s everything except empty. 

The towering tree of bottled sunlight, the smell of pastries and tea from the kitchen, the books strewn across the study as Beau and Caleb sit perched in chairs across from each other. It’s anything but empty. It’s full of love, full of light, full of family and heart. It’s the closest thing to an actual home Molly has ever had and it’s not even Molly’s home, it’s not even meant for him. 

Caleb wants to call it the MT House, he wants it so badly. Molly wonders why, wonders if Caleb’s more sentimental than he lets on, wonders if he really had any sort of affect on the quiet wizard, the wizard who always seemed like he was gonna cut and run any day now. 

The others want to call it the Xhorhouse and, well. That’s way too fucking funny for the Nein to pass up. 

They make a spa. Of course they do, and they name it after him. 

Yeah, that fits better. 

Molly smiles, takes a dip even if he can’t really feel the warmth or the water all that much. It’s still nice. 

_Mollymawk is the name of an albatross,_ Fjord once said, _a seabird._

Albatrosses are grey, white, kinda angry-looking. Doesn’t really fit Mollymauk’s style very much. 

Mollymauk has spent no time at sea. At least, not when he was alive. Though he did ghost around a few ships, and he had once heard Orly sing a foreboding shanty to some of the younger crewmembers. 

_It’s bad luck to kill an albatross_ , he had said. 

This can’t be fucking happening. 

Yasha is fucking abandoned. She needed help and the Nein fucking _abandoned_ her, locked her away in some weird ass tomb, didn’t stop running until they were out of breath. 

Fucking _Yasha_ , who’s always there for them. She’s Molly’s best friend, goddammit, his sister and his family, and they just _left_ her. 

Is this a trend with the fucking Mighty Nein? Leave behind the circus kids as if they never meant nothing?

Then he gives the Mighty Nein a proper look. The tears streaming down Jester’s face, the way Beau’s eyes alternate between angry and far-off, the wounds all over the Nein’s bodies that could’ve been fatal. The way that even _Caduceus_ looks like he’s going to fall apart. 

Goddammit. He’s still angry but anger is stupid right now so he pushes it aside and just sits down on a nearby rock and watches over the Nein like some sort of guardian angel. 

After that day, he follows Yasha around for a few weeks before he decides he can’t take it. He can’t watch his friend like this, like a puppet with no soul. 

He follows the Nein instead. It’s a little better. They’re waiting for their time to strike, waiting for Yasha and Obann to make their move. 

Even in their misery, there are still good moments. Hopeful moments. Molly laughs a little, cries a little, carries hope in his heavy heart. 

Vax sometimes flies by, tells him where Yasha is and hopes that the Nein figure it out. 

They will. They have to. They have to get her back and, fuck. You know what?

Molly trusts that they will, no matter what. 

He knows that they will. 

_You ever heard the story of Hyacinthus?_ says Vax’ildan one afternoon. _He was a lover of Apollo, I think. And one day, he died. Think Apollo killed him, on accident? You can imagine the grief the poor fucker must’ve felt. They say, from the blood-soaked soil, flowers sprouted and blossomed. Hyacinths, Mollymauk._

“I’m sure they were very pretty hyacinths,” Molly says, looking down at the spot where his body must be buried, small pink-and-purple mushrooms poking above the grass. 

_Something will grow here_ was what Caduceus said. 

Molly plucks one of his own feathers, leaves one at the base of the stick poking out of the ground, right next to where Jester had left one tarot card from his deck. _The Moon_. Because, well. Of course it was the Moon. 

“Can’t believe it’s still fuckin’ there,” Vax’ildan says, gesturing at the coat that had fallen onto the ground. “Maybe it’s too goddamn gaudy that no one wanted it.”

That makes Molly laugh. He doesn’t expect it when tears start to prick the corner of his eyes. 

“I can’t believe it either,” said Molly, and Vax gives him a strange look when Molly’s voice comes out sounding a little too watery. “I can’t believe it’s still here either. It was made of, it was made of old fucking circus tents, you know? Gustav was about to throw them out, said it was a shame, but I stopped him. I remember the look he gave me. I was still partially mute back then, so the fact I was showing, like, a genuine emotion? Wild shit. Took the tents. Cut ‘em all up. Did a good bit of the embroidery by myself, sewed it all together. I remember Toya helping with some of the stitches. Took fucking _forever_ to make it, I had fucking callouses for a while afterwards. Yasha had joined the circus after I had already made the coat, but. It was always a work in progress. The plan was always to add more to it, buttons and patches of fabric and stuff like that. Yasha added a little bit of embroidery to it. Surprised it’s still here. It looks like shit, but nothing a good wash couldn’t fix.” 

Molly doesn’t cry, because crying over a tattered piece of fabric is stupid.

Molly looks back at Vax. “How’d you know that story? About fuckin’ flower guy.”

Vax seems startled by the subject change. “I just, I don’t know. Knew a girl once who liked flowers.” 

Vax walks away.

“The Chaos Crew” is a new development. Molly’s definitely a fan; Always a joy to see what they’ll do next.

They decide to get tattoos and Molly is fucking _elated_. It’s always fun to watch someone get their first tattoo, Molly remembers his first.

Veth goes first. She chooses a teal-green, and a design by her eyes, and Molly thinks it’s stupid as fuck. And he’s excited to see it finished. He’s also damned impressed, cuz that’s a _ballsy fucking move._ Not even _Molly_ has a tattoo like that. There’s the peacock feathers, sure, but holy fuck, it’s not like they’re _that_ close to his eyes!

It’s hilarious when Veth passes out. What else was she expecting? And Molly fucking commends her for it. She really is fuckin’ brave.

Next is Jester, getting a green tattoo across her chest and shoulders. It suits her. Molly feels weirdly proud? Jester really has become her own person, less young and naive and more confident and powerful. 

Still kind, of course. Always kind. 

She powers through it like a champ. Also, _holy shit when did Jester get that fucking ripped._

Molly thinks, not for the first time and definitely not for the last, about how this would play out if he was alive. He’d get a tattoo with them, for sure, reassure them that it’ll be great. What sort of tattoo would he get? Honestly, maybe something by his eyes, like Veth. Not sure what color. But the magic tattoos by the eyes, they make you more charming?

Molly is well-spoken, good with words. He says all the right things, but he tends to say them at all the wrong times. 

It’s, well. Wildly inconvenient, sometimes.

Plus, he thinks that sort of tattoo would look cool. And, goddamn, getting a tattoo with the Chaos Crew would be so goddamn fun. 

Beau’s up next. She shifts through her pockets and pulls out-

Holy fucking shit. No goddamn way.

She pulls out his fucking tarot card, starts rattling off the details of Molly’s very own tattoo. 

“ _Beauregard didn’t like me_ , my ass,” Vax teases from behind him, but Molly is too in shock to even realize Vax said something, much less realize that he wasn’t there before. 

And Beauregard choses it to be on the back of her neck, climbing up her scalp.

 _Fuck_ , that’s gotta hurt. 

It’s insane how Veth and Beau are more hardcore than Molly. Once Molly is alive, he fucking has to get something crazier. Maybe a tattoo on his dick, or something stupidly painful like that.

(Molly is kidding about the dick tattoo. Mostly.)

He watches Orly start coloring in the tattoo, Beau passing out some time later.

When it’s finished, it looks fucking great. Swollen as all fuck, but great.

And, maybe, it’s finally settling in how much Molly meant to the Nein. Not just Yasha, but all of them.

Molly has to sit down for a second. Vax gives him a smug grin.

“Oh, fuck off.”

_Molly knew things! Molly knew things!_

Jester had sounded so sure when she said that. 

Here’s the thing; Molly barely knew shit. He couldn’t read, he was alive for two fuckin’ years, he was a goddamn circus carnie.

Here’s the other thing; Molly didn’t always bullshit his tarot readings. He trusts the cards enough, he just sometimes gave them a nudge in the right direction. 

They’re Moonweaver cards. Molly trusts the Moonweaver. Molly also knows when the Moonweaver would appreciate a little deception.

A good lie always holds a little truth.

Molly would never say he _knew_ things. But he would say that he, perhaps, suspected things. 

Beau gives his tarot cards to Jester. He’s delighted by it, because who better to use them? 

And Molly’s seen her art, of course he has, and it’s. Spectacular. Better than his, though to be fair, Jester’s had much more practice. Molly figured he’d have more time to get better. He had hoped that he would finish his deck, look back at some of the older cards and laugh at how the amateurity is almost part of the charm. 

And then, you know. A sharp pain in his chest and nothing else. 

They’re in the Cobalt Soul, Jester sitting at one of the tables, spreading the cards in front of her. 

She looks excited, it’s infectious, a sparkle in her blue-purple eyes and a pencil tucked behind her ear. 

She spreads them out until they’re all visible; She looks at them and frowns. 

Oh gods, this is it. Jester’ll look at the cards and say, _what the fuck these are so bad_ or some shit. Look, obviously they’re not the best or anything, but for a guy who’s been alive for two years it’s _definitely_ not _bad_ by any means and not everyone can have the same talent as Jester Lavorre-

Molly realizes with a shock that Jester is crying.

Fuck.

Molly looks down at the cards. They’re not bad. They’re kind of charming in a way.

And they’re _so blatantly unfinished_. 

Oh gods.

Jester, clutching one of the cards Molly had been particularly proud of, just keeps crying.

She’s crying because Molly had never had the time to finish them.

Molly had made peace with never finishing those cards long ago. But Jester? This is the first time she’s really looking at them. The first time she’s hit with the realization that Molly was trying to make something beautiful, something he’d be proud of, and he never got to see it come to fruition. 

Molly sits in the chair next to her, wishes he could give her a hug. Molly hates seeing her cry, like something deeply unsettling in his soul, and he wishes he could do something besides watch. 

Molly gives her a hug anyways. Maybe she feels it. She probably doesn’t. 

It occurs to Molly that he had never hugged Jester when he was alive. He’d like her hugs, he thinks to himself. 

Molly hugs a little tighter even though he phases through Jester a little bit, he looks at the tarot decks, and he can’t wait to see Jester turn them into something even more beautiful. 

_Molly once told a story_ , said Beauregard once, _where Molly pretended to be a god for a con. The whole town believed him, fawned over him._

Some facts wrong, some facts right.

Molly did con a whole town into fawning over him, it was his first con ever.

Molly did not pretend to be a god. Maybe he gives that sort of resplendent, immortal air, but Molly had only ever pretended to be royalty. Important royalty, but royalty nonetheless. Royalty that was mortal. 

Molly, of course, has no qualms about Beauregard saying he’s a god. In fact, he’d prefer if she said that a little more. 

Nothing like some good, harmless misinformation. It’s exactly the kind of legacy he’d want to have.

The Mighty Nein are on a weird, freaky, fucky island and Molly doesn’t like it.

“What a weird fuckin’ place for these assholes to end up,” Vax mutters.

Molly shrugs, watching the Nein stride into the village. “Travelercon, I guess. I don’t fucking know, Vax’ildan, take it up with the archfey god. Didn’t you say he strangled you to death?”

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Mollymauk, we don’t talk about that.”

“Didn’t know you were into choking!”

“I will end you.” 

Molly laughs, looks back over at the Mighty Nein talking to Viridan. Molly thinks Caduceus, or maybe Jester, is trying to find a moment to sneakily cast Greater Restoration. 

Vax gives Viridian another weird look, and then another, and then another, and finally Molly caves with a, “Fuck’s wrong with you?”

Vax looks shocked, almost like he had forgotten Molly was there. “The fuck do you mean?”

“I dunno, you have the hots for Viridian, or something?”

“ _What?!_ ”

“You, I don’t know! You keep looking at her weird, it’s… _Weird!_ ” Molly shrugged, throwing his hands into the air. “I don’t know!”

Vax sighed, rolled his eyes a little. “It’s _nothing_ , Mollymauk. Really.”

Molly _hmphs_ and looks away from Vax, just in time to see Caduceus tap Viridian on the hand and cast Greater Restoration.

Everyone seems to hold their breath for a moment to see if the spell works.

And by the gods, does the spell _work_.

 _My name is Vilya_.

And _that’s_ the exact moment when Molly sees Vax’s face _change_. His face pales, his eyes bulge, his jaw drops as if it’s slack. He says under his breath a name that Molly doesn’t recognize. Vax looks like he’s looking at a ghost. 

Correction, Vax looks like he’s looking at someone who’s supposed to be a ghost.

Molly gives Vax a weird look. “Do… Do you know her?”

“I do in theory,” Vax decides to say, _(Vax thinks to himself, how the fuck else do I explain that “Viridian” is my girlfriend’s dead mom)_. “She’s supposed to be dead. We thought she was dead. She’s… She’s one of my old friend’s mothers.”

As it turns out, “Viridian” is named Vilya and she’s an elven druid from somewhere in Tal’dorei. Molly thinks he remembers Vax talking about Tal’dorei. 

Apparently, Vilya’s been lost on this island without her memory for twenty years. 

Gods.

Molly wonders, is there a difference to Viridan and Vilya? Are they two people, or one in the same? 

Molly would say that Lucien is a different person. Molly would still say that even if he had Lucien’s memories. 

But, evidently, he can see that Vilya wouldn’t say the same.

That scares Molly. That scares the shit out of him. What the fuck would happen if Lucien’s memories came to him? Would he be Lucien?

He doesn’t want to fucking be Lucien. He wants to be Molly. He likes being Molly! If he had Lucien’s memories, would he still be able to choose Molly? Or would he lose Molly forever?

He doesn’t want to lose Molly. Molly is bullshit, but he’s happy bullshit. It’s bullshit that makes himself happy, it’s bullshit that makes other people happy, he’s happy with his bullshit. He doesn’t care if he’s “actually Lucien”, because Molly is what he fucking is and nothing’s gonna change that.

He doesn’t want to know who Lucien is. He doesn’t want his fucking memories. He doesn’t want to be Lucien in any capacity, he doesn’t want to be Lucien-and-Molly, he wants to be Molly alone. Pure, unfiltered, concentrated Mollymauk Tealeaf. Fuck Lucien. 

Because he’s scared that if he has Lucien’s memories, he’ll be a different person. He doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want to rebuild his identity, he’s worked so goddamn hard on Molly and he won’t fucking lose it. He doesn’t _want_ the identity crisis that Lucien’s memories will cause.

What is a person but a bunch of jumbled up memories? 

What is a person, but a choice to be someone?

Molly is so lost in his chaotic thoughts, he barely even notices Vax screaming “SO THAT’S WHERE SHE’S BEEN THIS ENTIRE FUCKING TIME” somewhere off in the dense jungle.

So fuck it. Fuck Lucien.

Molly doesn’t even think he can receive any of Lucien’s memories, anyways. He’s fucking dead, both Lucien and him. It can’t affect him anymore.

So no reason to worry, right?

Yeah, no reason to worry.

So stop worrying about it, Mollymauk.

_Asmodeus. Isn’t he, like, a horny demon? Yeah, that’s you._

“Fuck off Vax’ildan.”

Vax laughed at that. 

Molly has only seen Yasha’s wings a handful of times; Ashen-colored and skeletal, large and jagged like lightning bolts.

Somehow, he always sorta thought she’d grow feathers. He’s not quite sure how he knew that, he just wanted to still be around when that happened.

Obviously, Molly’s dead now, but. It’s still nice to watch it happen, nice to watch Yasha, his closest friend, spread her feathery white wings.

She’s grown so much and Molly can’t help but feel proud in a way he’s never really felt before.

Molly flies next to her as she carries Beau in her arms and Molly wonders if maybe she can feel his presence beside her.

_I think you’re like Icarus_ , Gustav had said to him once.

Molly wouldn’t agree with him. He’s got a stupid head on his shoulders and a pair of wings, sure. But he doesn’t have the sort of wings that melt. He could fly towards that great fiery orb and not feel any heat, not even really feel the wind through his hair.

He’s an Icarus that can’t fall because he’s already too far gone. 

Well shit. 

Molly some-fucking-how didn’t expect this fucking day to come. He didn’t _want_ this day to come, at fucking least.

Eyes of nine. What the fuck does that shit mean? Molly doesn’t fuckin’ know, but he does know that the Mighty Nein are gonna try and poke their shitty little noses into it!

Fucking goddammit. 

No, it’s fine. It’s fine. The Nein defeated Vokodo, which is, you know. Very cool and good. Great for them! Fuck that guy!

Look, it probably doesn’t even matter.

The Nein are discussing the weird ass vision they got, and Molly is looking at Yasha with an intense stare, arms crossed and shoulders tense.

Don’t bring it up, don’t bring it up, don’t bring it up.

Maybe she won’t mention it. Maybe she forgot about it. It’s fine.

“Molly had nine eye tattoos.”

It’s not fine.

God _fucking_ dammit. 

It’s Yasha. His best friend. Of course she wouldn’t forget about the eyes. 

Now they’re talking about Molly. Someone says that maybe they should pay him a visit.

Fuck. Molly doesn’t get his hopes up, it’s been a year and he’s still dead, he’s sure the Nein’s moved on.

If the Nein resurrect him just because they need information about some weird ass breathing city, he swears to the fucking gods-

Breathe, Mollymauk.

It’s the Mighty Nein. They’re not gonna resurrect him _just_ for information, they’ll resurrect him cuz he’s a friend and Molly momentarily feels guilty that he thought so lowly of them. 

Being dead for so long has just taken its toll, Molly supposes. 

Molly doesn’t get his hopes up, though. Molly doesn’t even think the Nein _can_ resurrect him, anyways. Maybe Caduceus could talk to him, but. 

Gods, Molly just. _Doesn’t_ want them to look into the eyes shit. Because Molly doesn’t want to know about it, but he also doesn’t want to stop following the Nein around, and he knows that the Nein are gonna try and figure it out and Molly would just. Rather not know. 

Goddammit. Well. It’s not like he’s gonna stop following the Nein around, or some shit. Fuck no, Molly’s not leaving them. He doesn’t want to. Even if staying means the mortifying ordeal of knowing Lucien’s past. 

Which is fine. Definitely fine. Not like it can affect him now; He’s fucking dead. He always sort of knew he’d have to uncover Lucien’s past, somehow.

He’s just almost glad that he’s gonna be dead for the whole ordeal.

(Almost. But maybe he’d rather be flesh and blood beside them. Maybe he’d prefer Beau’s conspiracies, Jester’s wild ideas squished between reassurances, Caleb’s quiet understanding and compassion intertwined with his down-to-earth intelligence. _Molly had seen him kiss that poor fool Essek on the forehead, had Caleb learned that from him?_ Maybe he’d prefer Fjord getting out a map and pointing at random continents, or maybe he’d prefer Caduceus watching the Nein theorize in gentle confusion, maybe he’d even prefer Veth joking about Molly actually being Lucien before immediately backtracking. 

Maybe he’d prefer the strong presence of Yasha by his side, quiet and thoughtful and kind, holding his hand between hers and squeezing it a little whenever she notices Molly about to spiral.)

Instead, Molly just watches as the Mighty Nein continue to theorize, throwing his name around like a fuckin’ pingpong ball. 

(Molly spirals and no one’s there to notice and hold his hand.)

_Achilles_ , Molly had heard Lorenzo say in his nightmares, because apparently you can sleep after death, _your heel is showing_.

Molly usually tries to say something, at the part in the dream, but instead he just spits blood into the oni’s face and that’s the moment he’s stabbed in the chest.

Molly catches a glimpse of his reflection in a pool of water when he’s awake, sees the flesh of his chest.

There’s nothing there and it feels like empty space means that Molly can’t stop imagining what the scar would’ve looked like, the mangled flesh over this heart. 

“Can I get a tattoo,” he asks Vax once. “I know I’m dead. But can I?”

Vax looks over at Molly, studies him for a moment, seems to think to himself.

“You’re dead, Mollymauk.”

“That didn’t answer the question, Vax’ildan.”

Vax sighs, thinks for a moment again. “Okay. I think I can do something for you. Close your eyes.”

Molly gives Vax a weird look, but obliges anyway. He hears Vax mutter something under his breath _(a spell, a prayer, a promise?)_ and he isn’t quite sure how he knows it but he knows that something’s changed.

“Okay. You can look now, Mollymauk.”

Molly opens his eyes, raises an eyebrow at Vax, looks back into that pool of water and sees a new tattoo; A seabird over his chest, it’s wings outstretched. Molly hasn’t read many textbooks, but it looks like something out of a textbook, showing the wingspan of the bird.

It’s not Molly’s usual style. For some reason he loves it anyways.

Still, he’s confused.

He looks at Vax. “Why a bird?”

“It’s an albatross.” 

“Why?”

Vax tilts his head at him. “Don’t you know, Mollymauk?” he says, “It’s bad luck to kill an albatross.” 

The next few days (weeks?) kind of go by in a very confusing, weird blur. Molly laughs his ass off at the Nein’s plan’s for Travelercon, gives Artagan a few good hard glares even though he knows Artagan can’t see him, watches them all toil and run around and murder the shit out of a fucking Tyrannosaurus rex. Good times.

The first day of Travelercon is exactly the kind of hedonistic shit Molly would love. It makes him think about when he was still alive; The Nein had gone to a festival in Zadash, it might’ve been some time during autumn.

It was fun, Molly remembers. Molly had bought that gaudy tapestry there, he remembers the happy look in the artist’s eye when he said he’d take it. And the Nein had fought together in that fighting pit.

Good times. It was fun, and happy, and nice.

Somehow, Travelercon is even better.

It’s fun, and happy, and nice, even if there’s a bit of tension within each of the Nein. And, fuck, it’s Jester’s day. She seems stressed, and she seems happy.

“God, I wish I wasn’t fuckin’ dead,” Molly says to Vax, “can you imagine how _absolutely_ shitfaced I’d get! _Gods_ , it’d be glorious.”

Vax chuckles. “Can’t hold your liquor, Mollymauk?”

Molly rolls his eyes, pushes Vax a little bit. “I can hold my liquor fine, Vax’ildan!” 

Vax raises his eyes, seeming unconvinced. Molly just sighs at him playfully, then glances over to one of the wooden tables.

Vilya is sitting there, looking tense and lost-in-thought and uncomfortable. 

Molly walks over to her, sits across from. Vax takes a seat on the table, legs crossed.

Surprisingly, Veth makes her way over, asks her how she’s doing, if she wants a drink from her flask. Vilya says something along the lines of, “My family doesn’t drink.”

Vax muffles a laugh behind his hand. That’s a story Molly will have to drag out of him later.

Vilya asks Veth if it’d be okay if she left without saying goodbye. 

Vax’s head perks up.

Veth reassures her, and Vilya says she’s going home.

She gets up, walks off. They follow her.

She stands in front of a tree, and casts a spell that opens a portal within it.

Veth and Molly stare through the portal, and Molly sees her; A pretty, red-headed half-elf with freckles and dimples and a headpiece that looks like deer antlers. 

Vilya walks through the portal within an instance.

Molly looks back at Vax, about to say “well that was a lot”, but Vax is already nowhere to be seen. 

Molly looks back at the tree, and he can see a flash of spectral black hair and raven wings before the portal closes and he’s left alone.

Well. That’s weird.

Molly wanders around, and eventually stumbles across Caduceus and Jester trying to contact the Moonweaver.

Oh gods. Right. Molly had forgotten about the Moonweaver thing.

Molly genuinely can’t fucking figure out if it’s a good idea or not. Well, Artagan tricking a bunch of people into believing he was actually the Moonweaver the whole time? It’s crazy. Maybe not a good crazy. 

Molly would love to say that he knows everything about the Moonweaver, that he’s aware of all her whims and wants, but fuck. He doesn’t. He’s two years old, he’s illiterate, and the Moonweaver isn’t even a sanctioned deity within the Empire.

So, no, Molly isn’t exactly sure about this plan.

Well. The Moonweaver loves illusion! Loves tricking people! But, harmless tricks that don’t actually hurt anyone. This is, well, towing the line a little. Plus, it’s not like the Moonweaver’s an archfey like Artagan; She’s a _goddess_. Goddesses are more vain, Molly thinks. And she’s _definitely_ more powerful.

Gods, if only Molly could do a tarot reading right now. He’d _love_ to, maybe get a gauge on how she feels about this, but. He does, in fact, lack the cards.

Fuck. Maybe he doesn’t need cards.

Molly thinks to himself _fuck it_ , and sits himself cross-legged on the ground.

He’s never properly prayed before. He’s not sure what he’s trying to achieve. 

He thinks, maybe, he feels a hand on his shoulder. He opens his eyes and looks up between the clouds where the moon should be.

( _He swears to the gods, he thinks he sees the moon wink at him._

 _Hm. Maybe everything’ll be okay._ )

It’s now Travelercon day.

Fuck fuck shit shit everything is going bad oh gods what the fuck. 

It started off fine! It started off fucking fine, _great_ even, and now what’s happening is. Fucking _this_.

Molly feels like he should do something. He doesn’t know what but he feels like he needs to. 

Molly hates to believe it, but he’s frozen in place.

That never happens to him.

But this entity… It’s not the Moonweaver, he knows.

But god, it’s _fucking_ close to it. 

And this not-quite-the-Moonweaver currently has Artagan suspended in chains. Jester hangs off Artagan’s boot. Fjord hangs off her’s. 

Fuck it. 

Molly spreads his wings, flies up to where they hang in the moonlit sky. 

Molly’s never seen the moon look like that before. It’s beautiful.

It’s not the point right now. 

“Stop this!” he yells at the thing. It doesn’t look up at him. Maybe it doesn’t see him or maybe it just doesn’t care. 

Molly tries to grab at the chains around Artagan, but his hands pass through.

Fucking dammit. 

Molly really thought everything would be fine, huh? That a fucking _goddess_ would be okay with Artagan doing this shit?

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. 

Yes, Aratagan is a stupid, selfish, hedonistic asshole, but fuck. Molly doesn’t think he deserves this, not really, not right now. 

The not-quite-Moonweaver asks why Jester cries for Artagan.

“Because I love him!”

Of course Jester loves him. For Jester, _love_ and _loyalty_ are the same thing. And she loves fiercely, wholeheartedly. 

The not-quite-Moonweaver seems to pause, then asks if Jester is willing to accept penance alongside her god. 

Jester is about to answer.

Artagan looks down at Jester.

Then kicks her off.

Molly watches as Jester and Fjord plummet, Caleb catching them with a feather fall. 

Molly turns to the celestial being. “Look at this asshole. You say he’s a selfish little shit. Don’t get me wrong, because _fuck_ , he _is_. He’s a fey, of course he is. But that shit right there? No ulterior motive right there. No selfishness. No trickery. Just genuine love and care for someone who loves and cares for him back. Let the poor bastard down.” 

Maybe the being glances at Molly. He can’t really tell. 

The celestial being speaks once more, and there’s a change in it’s voice.

It sends one fuck of a chill down Molly’s spine, because _this_ is the Moonweaver.

Molly is in the air, face-to-face with a no-shit goddess. _His_ no-shit goddess. 

The no-shit Moonweaver looks down at Artagan, asks him if he’s learned his lesson. She says a few pretty words to the crowd, then lets the foolish fey fall to the ground. 

Molly is still in the air in front of her and the Moonweaver’s looking straight at her so yeah, fuck, she can definitely see him.

Molly feels like he needs to make a good impression but he has no idea how to. 

The Moonweaver almost seems to smile at him before she disappears.

Molly sighs in relief. Holy fucking gods. 

He swoops down to the ground, decides to keep his distance from the rest of the Mighty Nein. He’ll catch up with them in a bit, he just. Needs a moment. Maybe two. 

He takes a seat on a nearby rock. Rubs at his temples. Cracks his neck a bit.

Feels a hand on his shoulder. He freezes.

Okay. That’s weird. 

He feels lips move by his ear and there’s a whisper so quiet he strains to hear it but-

Oh. Oh _that’s_ funny. 

_(“I was never actually going to banish him to the Feywild, silly thing. Just give him a good scare._

_“A deception for a deception.”)_

And, fuck. Molly can appreciate that. 

He remembers the image of the moon winking at him. 

Molly starts laughing. The Moonweaver let him in on the joke from the start. 

And fuck. It’s a little bit funny. 

_Orpheus_ , says a voice in his dreams. Orpheus isn’t his name but he’s called that anyways. _Do you look back?_

Molly doesn’t look back. He can’t.

He has to trust that his friends will follow through.

_(But fuck. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to back-track.)_

“Breathe in that fresh ol’ air!” Mollymauk cries, popping the cracks in his back.

He’s not talking to anyone. Vax isn’t there. He just likes to hear himself talk, just to make sure nothing bad happened and that he hasn’t gone back to near-mute and _empty_.

In front of him, his grave. Small pink-and-purple mushrooms litter the area around the disrupted soil, the Moon card still lying where Jester had left it all that time ago.

Miraculously, the coat’s still there. Molly’s happiest to see that. It’s ripped and bloodied and sun-bleached. The elements have not been kind to it. But it’s there. 

Molly smiles. Almost laughs a little bit, walks up to his own grave. 

Molly sits on the ground there. Meditates for a little bit even though he’s not quite sure how to meditate. 

The sunshine is bright, Molly even thinks he might feel its warmth. The faint wind blows in his ears. The grass feels grounding between his toes and his wings flutter a little.

He feels nice. At peace, even. 

He thinks, maybe, he’s even at peace with being dead. 

His thoughts stop when he hears footsteps from behind him. That’s kind of annoying.

He opens his eyes, looks behind himself. 

“Huh. Why the fuck are you here.” 

There’s a black tabaxi standing there, staring straight through Molly. Cree, Molly thinks her name was. 

Yes, Cree. 

She looks like she’s waiting for something. Weird.

Maybe she just came here to hang out? Weather’s nice, after all. Probably feels nice against her fur. 

“Lucien.” 

Okay! Molly doesn’t like that much. 

I dunno, he thought to himself, maybe she’s just here to mourn, or something. 

Molly looks back at his grave.

A purple hand bursts out of the dirt and it feels like every single one of his fears is becoming true. 

“No! No, no, no, no, what the _fuck_ are you doing! Get the fuck back in there!” Molly cries, panicked, trying to push his own fucking body back into the grave. “It’s! My fucking body! And you don’t get to have it, you fucking-” 

It’s fruitless, Molly knows. His hands go right through his own fucking body and it’s not fucking fair goddammit. 

Molly wants to look away but fuck, he can’t. He can’t stop watching as Lucien climbs from that fucking grave, shaking the dust off him. 

God fucking dammit. Molly phases into Lucien, maybe he can possess him somehow? Possess his own goddamn body?

Why the fuck does _Lucien_ get to come back and not _him_? 

It’s not fucking fair and Molly feels like he’s going to fucking throw up. He fucking hates seeing this; Fucking hates watching his own body move so strangely and unfamiliar, so _unlike_ how it should be. That weird look in its eyes. 

The nine eye tattoos on the body start to bleed. Molly has never wished to bleed so badly. 

There’s just nothing Molly can do besides watch. His pained screams, his mournful yelling, his Infernal damnations go unnoticed. 

He’s not supposed to feel pain as a ghost but he swears to god his throat hurts, scratchy and sore. _(For a second he thinks it might be full of dirt and blood.)_

“What do we do with the coat?” Cree asks. 

“Bury it,” says Lucien in a voice that shouldn’t be so familiar yet shouldn’t be so different. 

Cree tosses Molly’s coat into the grave. Ironically that feels like the final nail in the coffin. The two of them fill the grave back up with dirt. 

They talk for a moment after they’re done but Molly’s too dissociative to listen. 

“So we’re ready to go?” Cree asks. 

It takes Molly a moment, through the shock and grief and rage, to realize that Lucien’s looking towards him.

Molly sneers, says in Infernal, “ _One of these days. I’ll break your bones and steal your eyes, tear your flesh and drink your blood. Soon there won’t be a body left for you to steal. I’ll make sure of it._ ” 

The eye tattoo on Lucien’s neck starts to bleed a little bit.

Molly realizes that Lucien’s not just looking towards him. He’s looking straight at him. 

Molly hates that it sends a chill through his spine. 

Lucien seems to falter for a moment. Then he smiles a little, a fang showing.

“Lucien? What are you looking at?”

Lucien blinks, looks at Cree. “Nothing, Cree.”

Cree looks oddly at Lucien, then seems to dismiss it. “Okay then. Let’s go.”

Cree starts to leave. 

Molly’s face is wet. He realizes this is the first time he’s cried in a year. He wasn’t sure ghosts could cry. 

Lucien gives Molly a nod, and then he’s off.

_“Bad doggy!”_ , Molly remembers saying in Infernal once while fighting a gnoll, because he likes saying funny things when he uses Vicious Mockery. _”You’ve got no arms, it’s awful!”_ and stuff like that. Stuff that’s a little funny, mostly stupid. Always spoken in Infernal.

It’s usually always stuff that used to make Jester laugh. And then Jester would do the same, whenever she casts Hellish Rebuke.

_(Molly couldn’t but notice that, whenever she casts Hellish Rebuke nowadays, she doesn’t say anything funny in Infernal anymore. She just screams)_

It took Molly a little too long to realize, but. When Molly had said that thing to Lucien.

He hadn’t even realized he was casting Vicious Mockery. 

Widogast’s Tower of Many Fancy Words that Molly Can’t Remember. 

It’s fucking brilliant. A personal love letter sealed with amber wax from Caleb to the rest of the Nein. 

Molly fucking adores it. After what had happened with Lucien and Cree, this is exactly the kind of pick-me-up he fucking needs. 

It’s honestly a little adorable how much Caleb loves the Mighty Nein. Cuz he fucking adores them, it’s obvious.

Molly’s happy that Caleb’s found a family in this pack of weird assholes. He wishes he was one of those weird assholes, but that’s just not how it goes, Molly supposes.

Molly haunts the tower as the Mighty Nein sleep.

He goes to Yasha’s room, watches her chest rise and fall with her calm breathing. Molly smiles. He zones out a little, as he watches her.

He doesn’t mean it when he phases through the wall behind him. 

Molly snaps out of it with a startle, looks around to see which room he’s in. 

Weird. This room wasn’t a part of the tour. There’s no doors. Secret room? Why would there be a secret room?

It’s a bedroom. There’s a four-post bed, tassels hanging off it, fluffy blankets and giant embroidered pillows. Intricate, gaudy wallpaper and tapestries all strung up. A bathtub and a vanity and oils. Incense and candles and a shrine to the Moonweaver, a coat hanger off in one corner. 

It settles in that this room is meant for him. 

Gods, Molly doesn’t mean to when he starts crying. Gently, at first, then harder and harder.

Fuck. Maybe this rag-tag group of idiots really did love him. Maybe Caleb really did love him.

Because this room? It’s a love letter to a guy that’s dead. The fact that the room even exists implies Caleb thinks he’ll come back.

Molly hopes he’ll come back. He wants to. But then he thinks about Lucien out there, walking around in his body, and he can’t help it when his shoulders start to shake. 

_And they say it was twenty years before Ulysses could see his loved one again._ A ten year war, a long ass voyage. 

Maybe Molly’s Icarus but he won’t be Ulysses. 

He’ll return to the Mighty Nein. And he’ll do it fucking soon.

He has too.

It’s not like the Mighty Nein’s got all the time in the world. Not yet. 

Beauregard’s brilliant. Of course she is.

Beauregard’s brilliance takes them closer and closer to Lucien. Is that a good thing? Fuck, Molly doesn’t know.

Molly almost wants her to stop. To stop theorizing, red-stringing, conspiring. Molly doesn’t want to hear another thing about Lucien, Molly doesn’t care about the Tomb Takers, doesn’t care about Cree and whoever else was part of it. 

He doesn’t want to hear about Lucien’s past, he doesn’t care. He almost hopes Beau will just stop, and shrug, and go “it doesn’t matter”, and they’ll move on from this and never try to find out more again.

But it’s inevitable that they’ll get caught up into this isn’t. Isn’t it? Because Lucien is running around out there and whatever his weirdass cult’s planning can’t be good and so the Mighty Nein have to stop it.

Molly had earlier made the decision to follow around Lucien and Cree for a few days. Big fucking mistake. Turns out, Molly can’t fucking stomach it. Seeing his own body move like that, so unlike him, turns out to be a very dissociative experience.

There were a few moments when Molly wondered if he was even real, which wasn’t helped by the fact that no one could see him.

Well, no one besides Vax’ildan.

_(“Mollymauk. I’ve heard what happened, I’m so sorry-”_

_“Tell me I’m real.”_

_“What?”_

_“Tell me I’m real, goddammit Vax, because I can’t fucking feel anything and no one fucking sees me and that_ thing _isn’t me but it looks like me but it’s not me and god what even is_ me _-”_

_“Mollymauk!”_

_“Vax.”_

_“I- Fuck, can I touch you?”_

_“Buy me dinner first.”_

_“Oh, fuck off. Can I?”_

_“Please.”_

_Vax hugs him. It feels warm. Molly sinks into it._

_“You’re real. It’s okay. I’m sorry Mollymauk.”)_

And no one besides Lucien.

Well, that’s only half-true. Lucien doesn’t see him most of the time, just looks straight through him like everybody else does.

But sometimes, there’s moments when Lucien looks straight at him. Sits silently, barely blinks, body completely still until he snaps out of it. Sometimes he gives him a smug smile, or a nod. Sometimes he looks like he’s going to say something, before changing his mind.

Molly doesn’t want to hear anything he has to say.

Molly hasn’t cast Vicious Mockery since that first time, but. Not for lack of trying.

He cracks after a little bit, retreats back to the Mighty Nein. 

Beau’s still on her rant. It really does strike Molly how utterly fucking smart she is, a lot of what she says really seems to check out.

Then Caleb starts talking, insisting over and over again that they go to his grave.

Molly feels many things at that moment. He certainly feels some way about Caleb wanting to hurry to his grave. God, the more and more Molly fucking things about it, he must’ve really left one hell of a mark on Caleb. With the room in the tower, the Xorhouse he wanted named MT, the forehead kiss to that purple drow fella. There’s a shadow of Mollymauk Tealeaf over so many of his actions, and now there’s this, Caleb so antsy to see him again.

And that hurts too, because Molly knows what they’re going to find. 

They’re going to find nothing.

They go to his grave, start to dig. And dig.

And they realize, _shit_. There’s nothing there.

Jester decides to scry. God, he doesn’t want Jester to see his body like that, but it’s not like he can stop her. 

A moment passes. “Molly’s alive,” she says. He’s not, but. Well.

He can’t tell her that. 

Because Lucien is alive, and well, and Molly is here with a pair of wings that'll never feel the sensation of wind through its feathers.

And everyday Molly feels like he’s losing a little bit of himself and he’s never gonna get it back.

**Author's Note:**

> i meant to post this before 112 and some of the details in this fic have been jossed be canon but haha whatever
> 
> this was such a monster to write and i havent edited it lately and i didnt know how to end it which is why the end is Like That but!! im still lowkey proud of this lol idk man mollymauk makes brain go brr
> 
> tumblr @knight-of-cauldrons if u wanna yell at me about the purple tiefling man
> 
> comments are highely appreciated!!!!! i eat them for fuel <3


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